the HyogaXShun drabblebook
by shedemonwolf
Summary: Just somewhere to dump any HyogaXShun drabbles I will write. Yaoi, Shounen ai and fluff are all imminent. (various ratings)
1. Forbidden Moment

_I'm just going to use this as a place to uplaod HyogaXShun drabbles I am likely to write. So it will be sparodically updated (HA!) and random. Feel free to review, but bare in mind that most of these are merely mentalexorcism and will not contain plot or anything so advanced._

**Drabble 001 : Forbidden Moment  
**Rating: PG13  
Warnings: Yaoi/Shounen ai, pwp, fluff  
A/N: omg I suck. Toothrot anyone?

* * *

He closed his eyes, shuddered and bit his lip hard. His knees threatened to buckle and he leant against the shower tiles, gasping and blinking in the spray of water.

Every morning was the same. Every day he undertook this ritual. Turn the shower on, soap-up, jerk-off. It was like some bizarre drug, and if he didn't take it, he would spend the rest of the day agitated, haunted by gut-wrenching cravings and hellish thoughts.

Every morning he told himself that it had to stop. That it was wrong and impure, and that if the others ever found out…if the other Saints where to ever discover what he kept hidden beneath the surface, then they would…actually, he didn't know what they would do. And he didn't want to find out.

He turned the heat up, the almost boiling water stinging and burning, leaving his skin red and raw. This too, was part of his routine. In his mind, the heat purified him and_ sterilised_ him. In reality, the heat hurt him so much that for a moment, he was able to forget.

He turned the water off and stepped out, groping for a towel through thick fog of steam that had collected in the small bathroom. He found one, and wrapped it around himself while observing his image in the blurred, steamed-up mirror. He could make out the mass of unruly blonde hair, now hanging in dark strands that dripped the cooling water onto his shoulders. He could just about see the shadow of the scar over his heart, the wound that Ikki had inflicted so long ago. Sometimes he wished that Ikki had managed to reach his heart, and he wished that he had torn it out. That way, he wouldn't be here, trying to still a fluttering beat that was the only thing that could give up his secret.

He pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn't afford to dwell on it. He tied the towel around his waist and flung the bathroom door open. The steam swirled out, and he didn't see the smaller figure before he collided with it, sending it toppling backwards with an angry squeal.

"Hyoga?" It said, staring questioningly while attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

"Shun…are you ok?" He said, taken aback at the sight before him. Shun continued to stare, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide. "Shun?"

Shun blushed furiously and looked away. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. It was, just, you know, a shock…and…"

"I'm sorry."

Hyoga struggled to look elsewhere, but the smaller Saint before him, who was still dressed in his faded grey pyjamas had him captured and rooted to the spot. This was kind the kind of encounter Hyoga tried to avoid, especially in the morning– his weakest time. He offered his hand to help Shun up and regretted it immediately. His skin tingled when the small pale hand grasped and pulled on it. When he pulled Shun up, he over-compensated, forgetting how small and light his body was, and Hyoga drew the smaller Saint into what was almost an embrace. He shuddered, a cold thrill running down his spine. He caught the scent of Shun's hair and closed his eyes, longing to run his fingers through that tangled flash of green.

Shun staggered forward, his face a flushed picture of disbelief and embarrassment.

"I'm…I'm so sorry!" He stammered hurriedly, his porcelain skin tinted across the cheeks with a palest rose. Yet he made no effort to move away from the shower-drenched body, and his hand was still entangled with Hyoga's.

Hyoga couldn't think of anything to say. So he didn't. Instead he leaned forward slightly and pulled Shun closer. Their lips brushed, and he felt the smaller body tense up in his arms, his shallow breath burning Hyoga's mouth. His heart hammered at his ribs, and the feeling was incredibly uncomfortable yet subtly exciting. He knew what he shouldn't do.

Despite the risks, despite everything he had done to avoid this, he kissed Shun. Just a soft kiss at first, barely a flutter of mouths; but when Shun started to kiss back, it turned into a fierce scramble to reclaim a forbidden desire. Hyoga felt that familiar, yet exquisite chill rise in his chest, and he didn't want that delicious moment to end. And he wouldn't have let it end, if it wasn't for the movement of another Saint in the adjacent room.

They broke apart, flinging themselves away from each other. Shun's face was still a picture of disbelief, but of a different kind. Hyoga gasped for breath, jumping when the door clicked open, revealing a disgruntled Seiya, who announced his presence with a loud yawn.

"Morning!" he exclaimed brightly, pushing past Hyoga and Shun, totally unaware of any kind of uncomfortable silence. "Shun- nice pyjamas and Hyoga- you really _should_ get dressed. You'll catch a cold…"

Seiya sniggered at his wit as he slid into the bathroom. By the time the door was shut, Shun had disappeared and Hyoga was left standing alone, with nothing but a towel on and that forbidden moment replaying in his head.

* * *


	2. Frostbite

**Drabble 002 : Frostbite**  
Rating : PG  
Warnings : Vague mention of alcohol. And more toothrot, of course.  
A/N : Um, very short.

* * *

He couldn't put his finger on it. It kept him awake in bed, so that all the noises and creaks of the house became painfully loud. He stretched his toes and fingers out, hoping for that pleasant brush of soft clean sheets on tired skin. But he felt odd, he felt cold and achy, and it disturbed him. What was it? What was this sensation he couldn't shake? 

Why was it there?

Shun had spent his day unconstructively, some would say. Shun would argue otherwise. For most of the afternoon Shun was curled up on the couch with a large book, observing the routines of the other Saints. He had caught Seiya sneaking into the kitchen to gorge on the unprotected chocolate cake, and he had seen Shiryu meandering from room to room in a meditative-yet-mumbling state. He had heard Ikki making some rather unflattering remark about the Gold Saints, and Saori's half-hearted retort.

And of course, he had watched Hyoga.

Hyoga had been sitting opposite him all afternoon. He was holding a glass filled with ice and some stinking alcoholic substance. All afternoon he had taken but one sip of it, and Shun had concluded that Hyoga wasn't holding the glass to drain its contents, but that he was also partaking in an observation. Hyoga, it seemed, was watching the ice melt.

Shun theorised and speculated as to why, each time coming to no real answer. He wasn't really trying to find one. He wasn't really reading his book either, but peering over it and lowering his eyes whenever he thought he had been seen.

But Hyoga remained unaware, his sapphire-shard eyes unfocused and bright. He was thinking, remembering, maybe even mourning. Shun was filled with a desperate need to approach Hyoga and to hold him and to...comfort him? No, Shun wanted to do more, and was surprised when his stomach churned with awe-struck butterflies. It almost felt like a hot oily liquid filling him up, making him comfortable yet uneasy.

He retreated again behind his book, his face working the expressions of someone both confused and utterly amazed. From what he knew, it felt awfully like...like a crush.

Shun was crushing on Hyoga, badly- and had been for a long time, it seemed. It was only that odd bubbling deep inside his chest that had ultimately made him aware of that. He peeked over his book again, his face slightly red. He observed the figure before him bit by bit.

He realised it was all too easy to crush on Hyoga. He shouldn't blame himself, because it was all too apparent as to why it had happened. Hyoga was tall, leanly muscled, with a flop of almost white-blonde hair and those piercing, cold-as-ice eyes. He was also emotionally distant and unavailable, too caught up in his grief to be able to truly express any feelings besides sadness and guilt. Despite all this, he also showed and extra-ordinary kindness and respect towards others, and Shun remembered him as one of the first people to show him any scrap of decency.

Shun had let a small sigh escape him - it fluttered in the air like a frightened moth but it was enough to break Hyoga's concentration. He focused his eyes sharply upon him, and Shun felt an inexplicable iciness creep across his back and into his limbs.

It was pleasant at first, but as the evening wore on, the chill had moved to his extremities and it had become almost painful. His fingers and toes looked fine, but they felt cold and numb. He had acquired a hot-water bottle for the evening in the hope it might alleviate the glacial state of his digits, but to no avail.

Shun guessed he had some kind of frostbite. Not the kind you get while climbing mountains, but the kind you get when you start to develop feelings for a Saint who's the very embodiment of ice.

"This hurts," he whispered to the dark room around him. Only then did he notice that there was another presence in the room, almost glowing, and that it must have appeared while Shun was busy debating with himself. Shun gasped as he felt that familiar cosmos light up, filling the room with invisible frost.

"How do you think I feel?" it said.

* * *

_A/N: Please remember that this is just a collection of drabbles, which will probably bear no link to each other. Drabbles ARE short, and drabbles do not really require much thought. It's just character interaction in my interpretation. As there is no plot or connection, you should be fine to read these in any order you wish._


	3. Nothing

**Drabble 003: Nothing  
**Rating: T (PG13)  
Warnings: Dark, disturbing, slightly twisted. Touches on the subject of death. Much angst.  
Notes: As un-fluffy as you can get, which is unusual for this pairing. Inspired by the Tool album 'Ænima', mostly by the song 'Stinkfitst'. I hope this doesn't squick anyone.

Also, I do not own anything, and this work is purely for my own entertainment.

* * *

"All those times we've nearly died and really died. All those times we've crawled back from hell. All that hate, that horror, that loss and grief. What's a few seconds of pain to us? Nothing. Nothing at all."

The sun has set but there's still some light. For a few seconds, it is neither night nor day, and the sky is made of cold grey steel. The birds hush up. The night slides over the landscape, slowly suffocating those last glimmers of activity. It's autumn time, so it's cold. Frail curtains billow at the faintest breeze, inviting the night into the silent room. It caresses pale naked bodies, raising hairs with its soft icy breath.

One of them doesn't mind. He's used to it, he even likes it. The other one shivers, teeth chattering for a moment, skin prickling with goose-bumps. He thinks about closing the window, but doesn't.

_It doesn't matter_. Even if he did they would still be cold. Their spirits would still be broken; their souls would still be grieving.

They are older now, but not much. _Not that it matters_. They lost any sense of innocence and wonder a long time ago. Hope's a dirty word these days; nobody hopes for anything anymore. Hope's for the ignorant. They just fight for the will to stay alive.

He reaches out, cups his hands around that once gentle face. Green eyes gleam with tears, but none spill. _It wouldn't make a difference_. They have cried enough already, they need to do other things now.

Like love. They would if they could, but what they have been through has taken away so much of their humanity, it's hard for them to remember how to love. They want to; they try to.

He moves and he kneels between legs streaked with battle scars. One kiss, one moment and a spark – of love? But it's soon gone, forgotten. His hair falls into that sad face, obscuring it for a moment. It's just lust now. Green hair is splayed across the pillow and the body below him arches up, inviting him. Those eyes are half closed now, and a moan escapes him.

He doesn't like the pain.

"Be gentle."

But he knows it is brief – a moment of pain in exchange for some pleasure. A gasp escapes him, but it goes unnoticed.

"It hurts."

That little body winces, and wriggles. _But it doesn't matter_. Pain isn't really something they mind anymore. It reminds them of what was there before the pain.

Even though that was so long ago.

The pain transmutes, and becomes that sweet gnawing feeling. They always confuse it for something, but it remains nothing. It is no reflection of what they feel for each other, although there are feelings there. But they keep them locket up, and prefer to pretend that nothing's wrong.

They try. Try to find a meaning to it all, try to show their love. Those years of fighting and dying and living as shadows have numbed them; and suddenly, all they have is not enough.

_Not that it matters_. They have grown accustomed to it. They would not have it any other way. They have discovered that this momentarily alleviates what cannot be cured. But it doesn't satisfy them and it doesn't make anything better in the long run.

It's not even something they want, but rather, something they need – so they can feel – even if it's just for a moment – something other than what haunts them. Even if that something is nothing.

And it often is.

"Do you think the pain ends when we die? For the sake of all those lost, I hope it does. I want death to be nothing but empty white space. I _hope_ death is nothing; peaceful and blank. With what we do, we die a little each day, but I like it. I look forward to when the kind nothingness I experience with you is permanent. I only regret that I won't be able to share that peace with you, my love."

* * *

A/N : Very short, but I really couldn't drag this one out- it's so depressing. But it's out of my system now, and I apologise if it upset/annoyed anyone. R&R if you feel kind enough to.

(go listen to Tool, for the are awesome.)


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